A Sibling Story
by magentabear
Summary: A oneshot exploring the relationship between the Girardi children.


Disclaimer: No connection to _Joan of Arcadia_.

Setting: This takes place during Joan's freshman year of college. She goes to a junior college and lives at home.

**A Sibling Story**

Joan and Luke love each other very much, as almost all siblings do. Unlike most siblings, though, they actually like each other. This is important, because it's a choice to like someone, while loving your family is prewired. Or so the sociobiologists say, and I, for one, always believe people with titles that hold two or more Latin roots.

Take, for example, the conversation I overheard last week:

"_Hey, dogboy," Joan snapped. "Give me your notes."_

"_No," Luke said without looking up from his bowl of cereal._

"_Please, Luke," she whined._

"_No."_

"_But, Luke—"_

"_Joan, _no_. Take your own notes."_

"_But your notes are better," Joan said._

"_I'm just smarter than you, I suppose," Luke said._

"_You don't say?"_

"_Do I detect sarcasm?" Luke asked with a smile._

_Joan grinned back at him._

"_What notes do you want? Last year's physics?" Luke asked._

"_No, calculus."_

"_You're taking calculus?"_

"_I know. Stupid general education requirements," Joan grumbled._

"_I can't believe that college let you enroll in calculus. Surely they saw your high school transcript."_

_Joan stuck her tongue out at him_.

See what I mean? They get along. They're friends. It requires no effort for them to eat breakfast together, even when one annoys the other. Joan makes Luke relax, for God's sake. No else can do that.

Well, I suppose Grace could, but she went away for college. And besides, if Joan relaxed Luke in the same way Grace did, we'd have some real issues to work on.

That's a disturbing train of thought. Let's move on, shall we?

I'm not sure how they do it, but somehow one always knows when the other needs help. Joan tells Dad that Luke doesn't need to work out, that girls don't necessarily want muscular guys, or Luke convinces Mom that your cognition improves if you to listen to music, and suddenly Joan is allowed to listen to her new CD while she studies.

I used to be jealous of the connection. When I was in middle school, and the whole family would come to my games, a part of me always wished I was up in the stands with them. They looked so happy together, like a perfect sized family.

Five is too many for a family. We never quite fit at restaurant tables, and trips to amusement parks never worked out. The rides always sat people in pairs, and I was always left alone. The oldest child, you see, is responsible enough to sit by himself.

Rollercoasters are never very fun when there's no one to scream with you.

I was looking through the photo albums last week. There's this picture of the two of them on a rollercoaster that almost made me cry. Joan was clutching Luke's arm, terrified. He was grinning widely, completely unaware that Joan was hanging off him. I should have been there. Joan should clutch to her big brother, not her little one. I'm the protector.

The accident changed everything, of course. Now I can only protect things that fit on my lap.

I know both my siblings love me desperately. I also know that they were terrified when I almost died. I am convinced that they will always be there for me if I come to them.

But I don't know if they like me. Luke, especially, seems wary of me. We may share half our genes (see, sometimes I Iisten when he speaks) but the fact that I was a jock and he is a nerd will always keep us apart. We're too different, I guess.

It's a shame.

Luke and Joan, meanwhile, are more alike than they realize. Both of them are passionate. Luke lives and breathes science; Joan throws herself completely into whatever it is she's doing. Sure, Luke's love always has been and always will be science, while Joan flits from thing to thing, but their passion is the same. A few months after the accident, when I was feeling especially poetic about my brush with death, I made all these stupid metaphors about them. Luke is a dog, loyal to his love of science. Joan is a toddler, completely enamored with whatever is set in front of her.

They are also similar in that they love too much. Even after what Adam did to Joan (which, by the way, I have neither forgotten nor forgiven) she stands by him. And Luke was devastated when Grace left for college. The boy didn't leave his room for days.

Joan, of course, was the one to finally coax him into the dining room. I then almost pushed Luke back into seclusion by asking him if he had pink eye.

I have never been the perfect big brother. Growing up, I was cocky and self-centered. Then the accident happened and I was bitter and self-centered.

I've decided that's what makes Joan a better person than me. She may be a teenage girl, but she's usually not self-centered. She got a job so that I would get out of the house. She helped me when Beth left. She truly does not understand why people should care I'm in a wheelchair.

Damn wheelchair. Besides the whole can't-enter-a-building-with-stairs thing, that wheelchair separated me even more from my siblings. We became sets of twins after the accident: Luke and Joan, and Kevin and The Chair. Guess which set is the well-adjusted one?

See, there's the bitterness. It sneaks up on me when I'm not prepared.

I find that I am very rarely prepared for whatever life feels like throwing at me. Between the accident and Beth and the move, I just… lose my footing sometimes.

Luke never loses his footing. He has his theorems and his textbooks; science keeps him sane.

I'm not sure what keeps Joan sane. Admittedly, sane may not be the right world (she went to that dance with a gun-toting psycho, let us not forget) but Joan seems more real than other people. She has a purpose in life, though God knows what it is.

Mom doesn't like it when I take God's name in vain.

I didn't like it when He took away my legs.

Dad doesn't like it when we mention God.

Sometimes I wonder how Joan and Luke feel about His Holiness. As their brother, I feel I should know something as fundamental as their attitudes toward a higher being, but I simply have no idea. Do they believe in God?

I'm not sure I believe in Him.

Well, I never was a curious guy; I can handle not knowing.

Luke is home from school now. Joan will be home in an hour or so. They will chat about small things, and then disappear into their rooms to do homework. I'll be in the living room, waiting for dinner. I like dinnertime.

It's the small things in life, Mom says--dinner with family, visits with friends, walks in the park--that what makes life worth living. Not your legs or your car or your house.

I don't know how I know this, but I think Joan understands the importance of the small things. I'm starting to learn. Luke will learn one day. Then, when the three of us are finally all on the same page, we will sit down for dinner and it will be lovely.

And I'm only being slightly sarcastic.

xxxxx

The End. Thanks for reading.


End file.
